Celebration
by foreverszpilfeld
Summary: It is Szpilman's first birthday with the former captain, and the levels of being spoiled have never reached this far before!


It was Szpilman's first birthday. Well, his first birthday with the former captain around. He was turning 30 today, but Szpilman was playing the piano in the living room as usual. His friends at the studio had already hosted a small surprise party, with a cake that contained music notes on it, and a few gifts for him. They made him cancel his normal playing routine, and instead they chattered while eating the large pastry. Of course, however, they talked about upcoming events for the radio station, and who else they should get ahold of to play. It was a wonderful afternoon, and comforting that Szpilman knew he wouldn't have to face his birthdays – or any other celebration – alone.

Now, with his fingers upon the keys, he played a piece by Mozart that he knew by memory. As he moved from one measure to the next, he reviewed the day in his mind. But when he was becoming closer to the end of the song, he stopped and looked around. The house was quiet – too quiet.

 _Where is Wilm?_

He searched around the house, looking for any sign of him. He checked the bedroom, the kitchen, and even the attic, but the German was still in absence. A little bit of concern began to appear inside of him as he continued to search the house. Every corner, every hallway, and every room was examined, but the other inhabitant of the home was not in sight. The man had been missing all day, and Wladek kicked himself mentally for not checking up on him.

 _Dear God, what have I done?_ his mind screamed. Szpilman frantically searched the house, and it was quickly becoming darker outside.

 _Someone could have taken him. Someone could have caught him. What if he's lost? What if an accident happened? For God's sake, I should have checked on him! Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ But just before Wladek could make another move, he heard a car parking outside from across the house. He made his way back through the kitchen and to the front door in the living room, where a man hidden behind many boxes appeared. He kicked the door open and was stumbling to and fro, and though he tried to maintain his balance, the weight of the boxes overtook him and he fell to the floor. The black hat the person was wearing fell off, and revealed the face of the one Szpilman almost had a heart attack over.

"Wilm?"

"Um…good thing I'm not carrying any of the ones that are fragile, eh?" The German shook off the small boxes that covered his arms, where they collided with the larger ones. "There's more in the car. Don't worry, I'll sort them." However, the flummoxed pianist shook his head.

"Wilm, what on earth is all this?" he asked inquiringly as the other man began to pick up the boxes and place them in his arms. He carried them to the couch and set them down.

"What does it look like they are, Szpilman? They're your gifts."

"They're my _what_?" Hosenfeld stopped what he was doing and lifted an eyebrow.

"Alright, let me spell it out for you. Today's your birthday, if you haven't noticed, and when it is someone's birthday, they received these items wrapped in boxes or bags called gifts. The gifts are given by people who care about that person very much, and"-

"No, Wilm, I mean…what do you mean there are more in the car?" Wladek interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, I need to get those too. Stay here." The German carefully stepped around the boxes that were piled everywhere, and jogged outside to the vehicle. Szpilman began to pick up the presents that were on the floor and place them on the lampstand, the couch, and the chair. Some were even placed on the piano bench. A few moments later, Wilm appeared once again with colorful gifts in both his arms, three in each.

"I wasn't able to get you a cake, but I'm sure all this will make up for it." Szpilman began to grow irritated.

"And just _how_ did you manage to get all this?" he questioned quizzically.

"Wladek, what do you mean by how I managed to get these? I saved money."

"You saved money…for all this? Don't you think this is a little…extreme?" The musician scanned the boxes that laid around the living room. There had to have been fifty of them – all shapes and sizes.

"You're welcome," Hosenfeld replied flatly. "Now sit down. It's present time."

"Wilm, I really don't think this is…" But the former Nazi captain was already placing the boxes on his lap, scooted away the presents that were blocking his way, and sat next to him on the old couch. Szpilman glared at him, and Wilm smirked.

"Just open your gifts."

* * *

It took almost twenty minutes to get through them. Music books lay in neat piles on the floor, a few new clothing items were folded nicely, candies wrapped in plastic were placed in the kitchen, and goods of all sorts were organized throughout the house. Wladek had to get two garbage bags to put the torn wrapping paper in, and they both soon reached his last gift.

"You're treating my birthday as if you're getting as many items for orphans as you possibly can. Why did you get me so much? You know I can't accept this."

"Would you calm down? I was saving up so much to get all this because it's your first birthday with me. You know that I'd like to get you everything in the world, and you will accept this."

"Yes, I can tell," laughed Szpilman as he glanced around, "by all this. But I'm not sure if I'll be able to get the same amount for you when your birthday comes." The musician's eyes filled with disappointment as the number of gifts Hosenfeld brought him filled his mind. The former captain rubbed his back.

"Szpilman, you must remember that I got you all this because I wanted to, not because I had to. I'm not going to force you to get me the same amount of things that I gave you." He lifted the pianist's chin. "Now open your gift," he purred. "It's the last one."

Wladek looked down at the small box, noticing that it was wrapped different from all the others. There was a satin ribbon that crossed the lid, and once he broke it, he tore away the wrapping paper. The box was a shade of gold, with white markings carved on all sides. The box captured Szpilman's eyes more than the other things, even though he was grateful for the stuff that Hosenfeld gave him as a total. His long, pale fingers lifted the lid, and it took a few moments for him to have the object settle in his mind. He pulled it out by the long, golden chain.

"Wilm…I…"

It was a pocket watch. However, it wasn't just an ordinary pocket watch. Below the surface of the clock lay a musical box movement. The watch's time was 11 PM, and as Szpilman opened the box cover, it revealed a small button. Once he pulled on it, a melodious, minor tune began to play. On the outskirts of the clock in the golden metal were carved music notes, etched in black ink, and a silver treble clef was incrusted onto the face as numeral numbers surrounded it. Vines of ivory circled the entire outer meta, and a long golden chain was attached to it. It was extraordinary, and any wealthy musician would have desired to have it.

"My God…it's magnificent. I've never seen one of these before. How did you…?" The captain let out a hearty, small laugh.

"Just before the war began, there was a man who did blacksmithing as a hobby to spend his extra time with that I knew. Luckily, while I was at work, I ran across him again. I hadn't seen him since the Allies declared war on us, so I figured that I wouldn't ever again. Well, it turns out I was wrong. A few months ago, like I said: I met him at work. It was getting close to your birthday, and using some of the extra money I saved from my old home, I asked him what he could make that would be special to give to you. Thankfully, he came up with just the right idea and requested what I wanted it to look like. I wanted it to have to do with something that was a part of you, so I went with the concept of music. Once it was finished, well…I didn't think it could be any more perfect."

Szpilman couldn't take his eyes off of the divine item, but he still listened to Wilm's story. _How on earth did that blacksmith think of this? It's beautiful, exquisite, and looks like something that came out of a fairy tale! Dear God, how am I ever going to repay him?_ he questioned himself anxiously. He was just about to lift open the back cover and pull the knob again until he heard a noise. It was Hosenfeld's hand searching in his front coat pocket.

"And don't worry, I have one too."

He pulled out his hand from his pocket, and there in his palm was the same watch. He opened the back cover, pulled the knob, and soon the same melody began to play.

"It has the same design, but mine is silver instead of gold. I must admit that I'm not the most sentimental man in the world, liebling, but this is your first birthday with me, so it is special. I requested two – one for you and I – because now that when we are apart, we will both have something that reminds us of who we love. In a way, you will be with me, and I," he paused as he closed the lid on his watch, "will be with you."

As the years of growing up and becoming an adult went by, the pianist had received many gifts that were told to be special, but never had he been given something like this. It was marvelous, and the meaning behind it stood out more than the artistic work itself. He had heard of music boxes, but never had he laid his eyes on something like this! Szpilman promised himself that it would never leave his side again.

"Captain…I-I love it," he smiled. Hosenfeld smirked.

"I know. Now come on, it's getting late, and just because it's your birthday doesn't mean that both of us don't get the day off tomorrow." The two of them stood up.

"Yes, yes, what a shame," Szpilman exclaimed as he rolled his eyes.

The pair traveled together up the stairs, through the hallway and into their bedroom. As Wilm locked the door and set both of the lockets down on the nightstand, he began to get ready while Wladek brushed his teeth in the bathroom.

"You do realize that other people are going to notice that I have that watch, and will want to buy it from me, right?" the musician yelled from the closed bathroom door.

"Just tell them it's not for sale and you're not giving it away. If you do, I'll kick your ass." The pianist finished up and got into the bed as he left the bathroom.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied as he kissed the former captain's cheek. He turned over and pulled the switch of the lamp, leaving them both in the dark, but neither alone as they curled up together for warmth.

And through the moonlit curtains upon a wooden stand sat two pocket watches that represented something entirely rare, but simply beautiful.


End file.
